Detective Kubu 02; The Second Death of Goodluck Tinubu

by Michael Stanley

  Tatwa looked at him and at the revolver. He knew this was going to end badly. He might as well make his play now. “No,” he said.

  Enoch looked at him, sensing the resolution. “Okay,” he said. “Then we’re stuck here. That’s the idea, isn’t it? Sooner or later one of them shoots me, and it’s over?” Tatwa said nothing. “I told them to stay at the dining area,” Enoch continued, indicating the policemen on the shore. “But they don’t listen either. So start the motor. The fat detective is in range. I’m a dead shot with a revolver. You want to try me?” Tatwa said nothing, holding his ground. Kubu was well back.

  “Superintendent,” shouted Enoch. “Come here. I want to make a deal. The others stay back. Not a step closer.” Kubu moved gingerly forward until he was near the boat. “What’s the deal?”

  “Tell him to start the motor. Otherwise I shoot you both. I can kill you before they get me. Easy.” Kubu considered the situation. “Start the motor, Tatwa,” he said.

  Tatwa considered, too. Then he leaned forward and with three sharp jerks started the outboard. It roared. Two large crocodiles, disturbed, exited the sandbank into the water. Enoch guided the boat slowly into the lagoon. “Sit on the edge,” he told Tatwa, indicating the side of the boat with the gun.

  “So when you shoot me, I’ll fall over? No. I’ll stay here. You can have a dead body weighing down your boat, if that’s what you want.”

  “If you do what I say, I promise I won’t shoot you. I swear it on my ancestors,” said Enoch. Tatwa looked into Enoch’s eyes, strangely believing him. He shrugged and perched on the side of the boat. The next moment Enoch jumped forward and shoved him off into the water. Then he opened the throttle, and the boat jerked forward.

  Tatwa had not expected this. He should have, but he had focused on the gun. The water closed over his head, and he held his breath, panicked. He could not swim. And there were crocodiles! His head broke the surface, and he heard shots. Constable Tau had run to the bank and had fired at Enoch, who had retaliated by firing back not at Tau but at Tatwa. Tatwa heard the whine of the bullet. Tatwa churned with his feet and yelled. “Help! Help! I can’t swim! The crocodiles, oh God, the crocodiles!” His head went below the water again, and he choked.

  Kubu was at the water’s edge too. He shoved Tau toward the police launch. “He’ll drown! Forget Enoch. Get Tatwa!” He fumbled in his pocket, coming up with the launch’s keys. “Thank God!” he said tossing them to Tau.

  Tau grabbed them, ran to the dock, and jumped into the boat. He started it with one pull, threw off the tie rope, and headed out into the lagoon at full throttle. Tatwa was thrashing in the water, trying not to sink.

  “Tatwa!” Kubu shouted. “Kick off your shoes. They’re pulling you down. Lie on your back. You’ll float!”

  Tatwa tried to obey the conflicting instructions, but the shoes were laced on and wouldn’t kick off and, when he tried to float on his back, they dragged him under. He flailed his arms, tried to pull himself up, and took a lungful of water. He was coughing again and starting to panic. Oh God, where were the crocodiles?

  But Tau was nearly there. In fact, he cut the motor too late and realized he would drift past. He leaned out holding an oar. “Grab it, Tatwa, grab it!” But it was just out of reach.

  Suddenly Tatwa felt something large and solid rub his leg. Perhaps it was a submerged log. But maybe not…

  With a high-pitched scream, he flung himself forward, away, kicking the thing behind him. Miraculously, that propelled him toward the boat, allowing him to grasp the oar, and climb it toward the boat. He nearly pulled Tau into the water, and between them they almost capsized the boat. They landed in a heap in the middle, as it swayed wildly from side to side, taking water. Tatwa was still screaming, but Tau put a hand over his mouth. Slowly the boat settled.

  Tatwa huddled in the middle of the boat, shivering. Tau asked him if he was okay, but Tatwa just looked at him. “It was a crocodile,” he said. His teeth started to chatter.

  Against all the odds, Tatwa’s St. Louis hat floated next to the boat. “Your lucky hat!” Tau exclaimed. Tatwa ignored it, so Tau leaned over, scooped it up, and tossed it into the boat. It floated. He realized the water in the boat was above his ankles. Chasing Enoch was out of the question. With a couple of solid pulls, he got the motor going and headed for the group on the shore.

  Tau ran the boat aground, cut the motor, and Kubu helped Tatwa out. “My friend, you gave us a bad scare. You need a change of clothes and a stiff whisky. In that order. Come on.” Tatwa shook his head, dripping. “It was definitely a crocodile,” he said. “A huge one.” He was starting to feel ashamed of the panic that had probably saved his life. “My brother was just ten years old,” he added. Kubu was puzzled, but didn’t pursue it.

  They could still hear the distant sound of Enoch’s motorboat, which had disappeared around a bend upstream. Enoch and his backpack – presumably stuffed with Goodluck’s money – were gone. He had miles of the Caprivi on the Namibian side, and miles of wild Linyanti on the Botswanan side, in which to disappear.

  ∨ The Second Death of Goodluck Tinubu ∧

  72

  While Tatwa showered and changed and regained his composure, Kubu was in contact with the CID in Kasane. They promised to contact the Defense Force and get a spotter plane into the area as soon as possible. With low passes over the river, they would certainly pick up Enoch if the boat was still on the water. But it would take at least an hour. They would see what could be done about a helicopter. Once Enoch was found, they needed to be able to get on the ground to arrest him.

  Constable Tau and another constable had bailed out the boat and were ready to head off after Enoch in the police launch. Kubu was pleased about the ace he had hidden up his sleeve the night before.

  “He can’t get far. Keep in touch using the radio and don’t engage him in a shoot-out. If you spot him, keep out of range, stay on his tail, and wait for reinforcements from the Defense Force. I don’t want one of you floating around in the river. We’ve had enough close calls today.” Tau promised to be careful, but went off excited. Minutes later Kubu heard the launch start up. The chase was on!

  When Kubu closed his phone, Dupie came up shaking his head. “Damn!” he said. “I would never have believed it unless I saw it. Enoch, after all these years.”

  “I want to show you something,” said Kubu. He led the way to the office tent and entered first so he could watch Dupie’s face as he came in. The desk was still showered by chips and pieces of the broken Eye. Dupie’s jaw dropped. “Shit!” he said. “How did this happen? I told you it was important.” Now he sounded genuinely shocked and angry.

  “Enoch. And what he said was: ‘That’s finished. I did it for her. Not for him, for her.’ What do you think that means?”

  Dupie just shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. Why did he smash the Eye?”

  “Perhaps he was announcing the end of a connection, Dupie. The end of a relationship. After this, you’re on your own. Could that be it?” But Dupie did not answer. He backed out of the tent, visibly shaken. Salome was calling him.

  Kubu could hear Dupie telling Salome and the camp staff what had happened. Already the story was becoming distorted. Salome started to sob, and Dupie broke off to comfort her. Kubu scowled. Things were complicated enough. It was time to contact Mabaku and to decide on the next step.

  ♦

  Mabaku had escaped from home and was at the office. He was tired and sore and did not need any bad news. But that is what he got. Serves me right for not listening to Marie, he thought.

  “So let me get this straight, Kubu,” he said, when Kubu had filled him in on the events of the last two days. “You suspected Enoch because Du Pisanie tipped you off about him. You practically arrested him, but it didn’t occur to you he might be armed? So he’s now escaped – with the money, you say – and we have the Defense Force scouring the country. Two countries, actually. Did anyone think of informing the Namibian police?” />
  “I’m sure Kasane will do that. The Defense Force will have to inform them about the plane and the chopper, too.”

  “I’m sick to death of people being sure about things. Maybe they’ll forget, too. Get onto them and discuss it with the police there yourself,” Mabaku growled.

  Kubu hadn’t forgotten. He had just thought it politic to phone Mabaku first. But he didn’t want to waste time arguing. “Yes, of course, Director,” he said. “But it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, as a precaution, I told Tau to empty the camp motor-boat’s fuel tank last night. The boat won’t be able to get far.”

  “Well, that’s something, I suppose,” said Mabaku, impressed in spite of himself. “But let’s leave Enoch to the local police. I want you back here; I can’t rely on Banda. Enough of playing cat and mouse on the Linyanti. It looks like it was actually cat and lion with you as the cat. At least you weren’t the mouse!”

  Mabaku’s instruction was good news for Kubu. It coincided with what he wanted to do anyway. I must call Joy, he thought, worried again. “Yes, Director, that was my intention. What shall I do with Du Pisanie and McGlashan? Bring them in to Kasane, or leave them here?”

  “What have you got on them?”

  “Well, not much directly. Dupie told me a nonsense story about covering for Enoch the night he murdered Boardman, and I suppose the implication of what took place this morning is that Enoch is the culprit. But I don’t believe he did it on his own. I think all three are in on it. Dupie’s latest piece of play acting was a setup.”

  Mabaku grunted. “Hold them as material witnesses. I don’t want legal hassles to add to everything else now.”

  “They’ll argue that they’re citizens in good standing and not going anywhere. My suggestion is that I impound their passports and leave them here with two of the constables to watch them. For their own protection, that is. We still haven’t resolved the Madrid issue.”

  “Don’t remind me. And Edison’s come up with nothing more from Beardy. Well, this will be a lesson to me. I can’t afford to get sick and be away for two days.” He mulled Kubu’s proposal. “Yes, do what you suggested. Once we catch Enoch, we’ll have him singing a different tune. Then we can get Dupie and Salome to come and supply the words.” There was an interruption, and Kubu could hear Mabaku’s secretary tell him the commissioner was on the other line.

  “Kubu, I’ve got to go. See if you can arrange things for the rest of the day so that you don’t drown any of my detectives, don’t start a war with Namibia, and don’t release a horde of murderers into the community. Do you think you can handle that?”

  Kubu said he thought he could, and the director hung up. Kubu wondered why his careful moves – with real results in this case – always seemed to come across as bumbling incompetence when summarized by the director. But Mabaku was right about the Na-mibians. He needed to call them.

  ♦

  When Tau radioed in from the police launch, the news was mixed. They had found the motorboat stuck on a sandbank in the river and, indeed, it had run out of fuel. But there was no sign of Enoch. Obviously he had rowed it to the shore and then pushed it out into the current. So there was no indication of where he had landed, or even on which side of the river. They were only about fifteen minutes away, so Kubu told them to come in. There was no point in them sitting on the river on the off-chance that the spotter plane would find Enoch nearby. He would have gone to ground by now in any case. However, Kubu’s plan had worked to the extent that there was a relatively small area in which Enoch could be hiding, and he must be relatively close.

  Tau was back at the camp by the time the spotter plane arrived. There was a side benefit; it was a six seater with four people in it. When it went back to Kasane, Kubu and Tatwa could get a ride, saving the four-hour drive in the Land Rover. Kubu relayed the information on where the boat had been found, so the plane had a reasonably well-defined area to search.

  Tatwa joined Kubu to wave as the plane flew low over the camp. He was looking better, dry, in clean clothes, and thankful for the large neat whisky that had started a bout of coughing, expelling most of the river still in his lungs.

  “I spoke to the director, Tatwa, and he said we should leave the manhunt to the local police. You’ve got to tidy up the Gonjwe case, and I need to move the Madrid business forward. Let’s get packed up. We’re going home.” As Kubu expected, Tatwa made no objection.

  Kubu made the situation clear to Dupie and Salome and the staff. They were all material witnesses, and there would be more questions once Enoch had been caught and had told his side of the story. They were to stay in touch by phone, make no trips off the island without letting Tatwa know, and in any case no trips out of Botswana. To emphasize the last point, Kubu took their passports, and two of the constables would remain on the island.

  Dupie laughed at that. “How long does this charade go on? We have a business here you know. Lives to lead. Enoch’s a bush man. You may never find him out there.” Dupie gave a broad wave encompassing Africa.

  Kubu was not in the mood for banter. “It goes on until I say it stops.” He looked at Tatwa. “We better get going. I expect the plane will be finished its search in an hour or so.” Then he hesitated, not sure how to address the others.

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” he said at last, brusquely, and turned away.

  ♦

  Reaching the mainland felt like a release. Jackalberry Camp had become a prison, haunted by death. While Tau organized the luggage, Kubu and Tatwa took a last look around. “What did you find in that shed?” asked Tatwa, pointing to it.

  “Just tools for the vehicles and the boat. Looks like Dupie does a lot of his own maintenance. Oil changes and the like. Stuff to fix tires also. I guess they get a lot of punctures from the acacia thorns in the bush…” His voice faded away, his mind following a lateral thought. Suddenly he grabbed Tatwa’s arm. “The tires, Tatwa, they change the tires!”

  Tatwa frowned. “Well, every car has a jack and stuff to change a wheel.”

  “Not the wheel, the tire. They’ve got tire irons to get it off the rim and inner tubes to reinflate it once they’ve fixed the hole. But once the tire’s off…”

  “You could put stuff in it!” Tatwa joined in. “Stuff like money. Were there any wheels in the shed?”

  Kubu hesitated, then shook his head. “I remember a dented rim and a tire, but not a tire on a rim. But it could be one of the spares on the vehicles.”

  “The one you have to crank down under the Double Cab? That’s the best hidden.” Tatwa’s heart sank. Getting at that wheel was a lot of work. But Kubu shook his head. “That vehicle has only the one spare. They wouldn’t risk driving on a million dollars. It’ll be one of the Land Rover spares. My guess would be the one on the back door. I wouldn’t put it on the hood over the hot engine, would you?” Tatwa shook his head, but Kubu was already walking toward the Land Rover.

  Now they were faced with another problem. How could they tell if the tire was a disguised bank box? Tatwa had an idea. He found a twig, jammed it in the tire valve, and was rewarded by a satisfying hiss of escaping air. Having tied up the boat and loaded the luggage, Tau joined them, puzzled by why his superiors were sabotaging Dup-ie’s vehicle. If the idea was to stop him escaping, it seemed to Tau that letting down one of the tires on the ground might be smarter.

  Sooner than expected, the air in the tire stopped hissing out.

  “It was pumped up just enough to keep everything in place,” Kubu said, tensely. He felt the tire, but it remained hard and still firmly on the rim. “Damn! Get it off the door, Tau. Use the tools from the police Landy.”

  Dutifully, Tau found the wheel spanner and spun off the nuts. He and Tatwa lifted the tire onto the ground.

  “Now what?” Tatwa asked. But Kubu already had the wheel on its edge and slowly rolled it over the ground. They heard something shifting around inside.

  Kubu turned to Tatwa,
triumphant. “Get on the radio and tell the plane to wait. We’re going to have something pretty spectacular to take back to Kasane. Much more interesting than Enoch’s backpack stuffed with old newspapers or whatever.

  “Tau, take the boat back to the camp and fetch Dupie and one of the other constables. Tell Dupie to bring the keys to the shed. Tell him we need to look inside there again.”

  But Dupie had been watching them from the lookout through binoculars. He sighed. He had come so close. But it seemed that his last roll of the dice had come up snake eyes.

  ♦

  Dupie watched in disgust as the constables battled with the tire irons. “You’ll wreck the wheel if you’re not careful,” he complained. “What the hell is this all about anyway?” But it was obvious what the hell it was all about when they finally got the rim free. Kubu pulled out the flat inner tube, shook out the tire, and flooded the sand with money. The notes were wrapped into packets in thin plastic. Kubu picked one up, pulled off the wrapping, and flipped through the stack of one hundred dollar bills with his thumb. Then he counted the packets. Their earlier speculation of half a million dollars looked close.

  “Shit!” said Dupie. “That’s where he hid the money, hey?” Kubu looked at him inquiringly. “Enoch!” said Dupie in an unconvincing reply to the unasked question. Kubu ignored that.